


I Want It That Way

by sunsetmog



Series: Rugby verse [4]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, D/s, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:24:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You like that?' he asks, because that's the kind of thing people ask in porno movies. That, and <i>Do you need your copier fixed?</i> which Spencer kind of thinks isn't actually all that appropriate right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want It That Way

**Author's Note:**

> Tidied-up chat fic, set after You Can Sit Beside Me When The World Comes Down, and in the same universe as [L.O.V.E](http://archiveofourown.org/works/169498). At some point in the future, if I ever get around to writing the actual sequel to the rugby fic, then I will probably amalgamate this scene into that. As it is, this is the scene where Brendon and Spencer first have any kind of sex, and just be glad I didn't call this, bb!rugby virgin boys and the great sexual adventure, which was what boweryd wanted to call it. boweryd has a lot to answer for, not least this fic's very existence. ILU, bb! ♥
> 
> Vague warnings for boys stumbling towards some sort of D/s relationship and not knowing what they're doing.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/58217.html) on 7th October 2010.
> 
> Updated July 2011: This fic no longer fits into the rugby verse. When I wrote it, I realised that I wanted to expand on all the things in this and make it _bigger_. [Running in Slow Motion](http://archiveofourown.org/works/214915) takes on the first part of the story - Brendon and Spencer's first time - and if I ever get around to writing the third part of the trilogy, then that will deal with the d/s themes that are hinted at in this story. This is an AU of my own verse. :D

The first time Spencer makes Brendon come in his pants, he and Spencer are hanging out in Spencer's living room.

Spencer's mom is in the yard with his dad, and his sisters are upstairs, and Brendon's sitting on the floor with his back up against the couch, reading one of Spencer's sister's magazines. Spencer, bored of waiting for Brendon to finish up reading about ponies, disappears into the kitchen to get them both Cokes. His sisters don't even take riding classes, why they persist in buying pony magazines is completely beyond Spencer's understanding. He thinks they do it just to make him crazy.

When he comes back in with two cans of Coke, he doesn't even bother handing one to Brendon, because Brendon is sitting so very still, his back straight, so engrossed in whatever he's reading that he barely notices Spencer coming back in. Brendon should pay more attention to him, Spencer's pretty sure, so he dumps the cans of Coke on the end table and clambers onto the couch. He climbs over so that he's sitting behind Brendon, legs bracketing him. Brendon's reading about dressage, of all things, and Spencer knows that he is exactly two hundred times more interesting than horses, and five hundred times more interesting than that stupid magazine.

Brendon, he decides, should put the magazine down and start paying more attention to his awesome flyhalf boyfriend. They've got the room totally to themselves for a change, and Spencer is sure that they could make better use of their time by actually making out.

Spencer reaches down and slides his fingers down Brendon's arms, trapping his wrists until Brendon's grip on the magazine loosens. He brings Brendon's hands up above his head, because if he does that, then Brendon can't reach for the magazine again, and Spencer firmly believes that Brendon's attention should be firmly directed towards him. Especially when the alternative is a _pony magazine_. But as he brings Brendon's hands up, Brendon's head tips back, and Spencer watches him go totally and utterly still.

This isn't the first time Brendon's gone still like this under Spencer's touch. Brendon in private is so very different to Brendon in public, and even though Spencer barely understands what the hell is going on, he's started to realize that if he grabs Brendon's wrists, Brendon goes still and kind of pliant. He's also figured out that if he does it slowly, circling his fingers around Brendon's wrists and even leaning in to press his mouth to the pale skin there, Brendon goes breathy and super-still and his eyes get even darker than normal. Spencer can't help but read it like an invitation. It _is_ an invitation, but to what, Spencer's not sure either of them can put a name to.

Spencer ghosts his fingertips up and down Brendon's arm. When he leans down and kisses Brendon he doesn't let go of Brendon's wrists, and Spencer knows that there's something different about what they're doing, about how still and quiet and pliant Brendon is, and the way his breath is catching against Spencer's mouth. He's already breathless and taut and so very, very still beneath Spencer's touch.

What they're doing is exactly the kind of behavior his mom has allowed them to put on the Acceptable Household Behaviors List (Spencer wished that list didn't actually exist, but his mom is evil), but making out and holding hands has never, ever felt like this. Spencer feels like he can barely catch his breath. He strokes his hand up Brendon's throat, feeling it work beneath his fingertips, feeling how quick Brendon's pulse is, how tense and on edge he suddenly is, and Spencer presses the flat of his palm to the underside of Brendon's jaw, tilting his chin even further back. He holds him there, and Spencer doesn't know why he wants to, and he doesn't know why Brendon lets him, but he does, and Brendon does, and Spencer doesn't let go. He ghosts a breath across Brendon's mouth before touching a kiss to his lips.

Spencer knows how hard he is, all of a sudden, and it's from nothing more than kissing and touching and it's never been like this before. It feels like there's no air in the room, and Spencer can barely breathe through the tension. Brendon whines - he actually _whines_ , and Spencer's hand tightens around Brendon's wrist without even realizing, and he's still holding Brendon still with his other hand, and then Brendon's hips rock up and he comes. He actually comes.

"Holy _shit_ ," Spencer manages, because Brendon's skin is burning hot beneath Spencer's fingers, and he's flushed red and breathing hard. He can't get his head around what just happened. Holy shit.

"Oh, fuck," Brendon says, trying to scramble away from him, but Spencer doesn't seem to be able to let go. "Oh, fuck, I have to go."

"No," Spencer says, because his head might accidentally be the most messed up place he can imagine right now, but the one thing he does know is that that is without a doubt the hottest thing that has ever, and probably will ever, happen to him. He has to go jerk off, like, now.

Brendon stumbles to his feet, and Spencer can't actually look away from Brendon's crotch. There's a damp spot on his pants and Spencer can't look away, because, that's Brendon's _dick_ , and okay, he's totally dating the hottest boy in school, and it isn't like Brendon having a dick has escaped him up until now, but it's entirely possible he hasn't actually spent much time thinking about the process of making Brendon come. Spencer is pretty sure he's never, ever going to be able to think of anything else, ever.

"I came in my pants," Brendon hisses, bright red. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." He tries to hide his dick with his hands, but Spencer's still got a hold of Brendon's wrist, and doesn't let him.

"I have to go jerk off," Spencer says, without meaning to.

"I have to go home and _change_ ," Brendon says, bright red. "Oh god, what if my mom sees." He gulps. "Hang on, what?"

"I have to jerk off," Spencer says, dazedly, still staring at the line of Brendon's dick in his pants. "That's not on my mom's list, I know."

"You, uh," Brendon manages. Spencer wasn't sure it was possible for anyone to get even more red than Brendon had been a moment before, but it turned out they could.

"I need pants," Brendon says, shooting a desperate look towards the back of the house, where Spencer's parents were lighting the barbecue for dinner.

"I have pants," Spencer tells him, because he does. He also has a room, and now that he is one hundred percent certifiably sure that Brendon has a dick that reacts to _him_ , Spencer also has plans. "You can wear my pants."

"You're a rugby player," Brendon protests, but Spencer grabs his hand and tugs him out into the hallway. Spencer remembers what it was like to have Brendon still and pliant beneath him, and okay, his head is suddenly in a weird, kind of hot place because he's imagining all the ways he can make Brendon be still for him, and this is not a line of thought he has ever exactly had before.

"I know," Spencer says proudly. "But I'm pretty sure we can talk about how I'm the flyhalf later."

"Nrgh," Brendon manages. "I mean, you are _built_ like a rugby player. I am built like a, like a -"

"You're tiny," Spencer says, which isn't exactly true, but for some reason the idea of him being built like a rugby player and Brendon being sort of tiny and very much his is actually making his dick even harder than it was a moment ago, and that's not exactly what he'd anticipated.

"Jackie, Crystal," he shouts, pulling Brendon after him up the stairs. Behind him, Brendon yelps, and Spencer realizes that maybe waiting until they were safely in his bedroom might have been the best time to start telling his sisters to go down and help with dinner. "Mom and Dad want you."

It's a lie, but whatever. Neither of his sisters can resist helping out with the barbecue, anyway. Spencer pushes Brendon inside his room and shuts the door.

"No shutting the door!" Crystal yells, but Spencer doesn't care.

"Go away," he yells back. He doesn't even care, because he's crowding Brendon back against the door and kissing him. His mom will have to come through the both of them if she wants them to open the bedroom door, and Spencer will take whatever punishment she gives him if only it means he can kiss Brendon right now.

He sort of expects Brendon to be more reticent, but Brendon isn't, not even a little bit. He kisses Spencer back, just as desperately, as if kissing means that they don't have to talk about that thing that went on downstairs that neither of them particularly understand but Spencer definitely wants more of.

Spencer doesn't know what to do with himself. He wants his hands to be everywhere, around Brendon's wrists, in his hair, tilting his chin back, down his own pants and grabbing his dick. It's a weird mish-mash of desires and wants he can barely put a name to, and he doesn't even try. He wants Brendon's hands in his hair, though, and it crosses his mind that this is something he can _ask for_. He's never thought of actually asking for something like that before.

"I want," he starts, "fuck, Brendon." He reaches for Brendon's hand, sliding his fingers around Brendon's wrist and feeling oddly gratified as Brendon stills, just for a moment, before Spencer clumsily attempts to point out that Brendon should have his hands in Spencer's hair. Brendon gets it, and he tangles his fingers in Spencer's hair, letting out a relieved breath against Spencer's mouth as Spencer kisses him again. His knees are bracketing Brendon against the door and a stray tug from Brendon's fingers has Spencer's hips rocking, up and against Brendon's dick.

It's the first time that Spencer can remember that happening, and he's _hard_ , he's hard and he touched Brendon's dick, even though it's through layers of clothing and a damp patch where Brendon had come. He needs to jerk off, so fucking bad.

"I need to jerk off," Spencer says, pulling away and trying to hide how rushed his breathing is. Kissing Brendon has made things even worse, especially since Brendon's hands are _still_ in Spencer's hair. It crosses Spencer's mind that he hasn't actually asked Brendon to stop.

Brendon flushes hot and red. "Uh," he manages. "Are you. Are you going to do it here?"

Spencer hadn't actually thought of that. He'd mostly thought about locking himself in the bathroom and jerking off over the toilet, because he's pretty desperate and he can't stop thinking that he's made his boyfriend come. That his boyfriend had had an orgasm, because of _him_. The thought of doing it here, where Brendon could see—for a second his vision clouds, imagining getting his dick out in front of Brendon. His heart's beating so loud Spencer's pretty sure Brendon can hear it. He's pretty sure his _parents_ could hear it, if they tried, and that isn't a train of thought he wants to follow right now. "You, uh," he says. Getting his dick out in front of his boyfriend is probably some kind of stage in their relationship that he should have anticipated, and maybe planned for. "You want to watch?"

"Oh my god," Brendon says, his voice high. Spencer thinks Brendon might be getting hard again, and he honestly wants to spend a whole lot of time thinking about Brendon's dick. Maybe all of the time. Forever.

"That isn't a yes," Spencer says, desperately, because suddenly Brendon saying yes is very, very important. He's rocking his hips up, because he can't not, and he knows if he just steps forward a little he can tilt his hips up and have his dick brush Brendon's, and oh god, _that's_ what he wants.

"Yes," Brendon tells him, nodding his head in case Spencer suddenly couldn't hear.

"Okay, then," Spencer says, and then it hits him, the enormity of what he's doing, of what they're doing, of what this means. This is kind of like having sex with your boyfriend. Spencer is kind of having sex with his boyfriend. Fuck.

"Where—" Spencer says, because there is this thing he should have done before right now, which was _think about this_ and maybe make plans, and maybe they could have been doing this for so very long indeed before now, and after he has come and Brendon has watched him, Spencer is going to yell at himself for all the amazing stuff he's been missing.

Brendon's breathing is rushed, even now. He darts in and presses a kiss to Spencer's mouth, and it feels sweet and nervous and hot, all at the same time.

"Oh god," Spencer manages, and then he grabs Brendon's hand and tugs him back so when they bump into the bed, Spencer sits down heavily and Brendon stumbles to a halt in between Spencer's legs. "Here's good," he says, and his hands are actually shaking, because jerking off in front of someone is kind of a big thing. Brendon stays still, in between the V of Spencer's legs. "You're too tall," Spencer tells him, and he pulls on Brendon's hand. "Kneel down."

He doesn't mean it to be an order but Brendon obeys it without question, dropping to his knees so hard it has to have actually hurt. Spencer's torn between wanting to check if he's okay and wanting to come even more than he had a second ago, because there's something about Brendon doing as Spencer asks that Spencer might have to examine later on. After he's come. Oh fuck, after he's come.

"Like this?" Brendon asks, after a moment, biting his lip.

Spencer tries to swallow, and he nods, his mouth dry. His hips rock up, almost of their own accord, and he pops the top button of his jeans open with shaking fingers, the zipper sticking as he tries to get it down and over his erection. His underwear is white and boring and his mom picked them out and Spencer knows that he shouldn't be concentrating on his underwear when he's going to be showing his boyfriend his dick for the first time but he has to concentrate on something, and his underwear is better than nothing.

"Spencer," Brendon says, and that's enough to pull Spencer out of his thoughts. He tugs his jeans down to his thighs and pulls his underwear down with them, and then he's sitting on the bed with his dick out and his boyfriend kneeling in between his legs, and he doesn't wait a moment before closing his fist around his dick. He lets out a desperate whine as he catches the underside of the head with his fingernail.

"Oh my god," Brendon says, in a weird, dazed kind of voice, and Spencer would be pissed at that being Brendon's reaction if he wasn't too busy trying not to actually _come_ , because he's pretty sure that coming within two seconds of touching yourself is pretty lame and there's some kind of rule about coming too quickly. It's just, _he's never had sex before_ , and this is his first time, and Brendon coming from Spencer's hands on him was approximately the hottest thing the world has ever seen, and that was before him kneeling in front of Spencer's cock.

"Fuck," Spencer manages. He is going to come. He's going to come really fucking hard and really fucking soon and more than that, he is going to come all over Brendon's shirt, and then Brendon will be totally covered in come and his mom and dad are going to be really fucking mad. "I'm going to come on your shirt," he says, because he can't exactly stop himself, and even now when he's more turned on than ever, he's kind of against advertising his new sex life to his parents.

Brendon doesn't hesitate, and he just pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor next to him.

That is not what Spencer meant _at all_ , but now Brendon is shirtless and kneeling in between Spencer's legs and Spencer is going to come. He reaches out a hand and touches at Brendon's chest with his palm, and Brendon makes the kind of noise that should possibly be outlawed for the effect it has on Spencer's cock, and then Spencer is coming, hard and fast and breathlessly. His come is hitting Brendon's chest, and his throat, and there's a stripe on his _chin_ , and Spencer's brain just about gives out after that, because this is the hottest thing he has ever seen in his whole entire life.

"You came on my chest," Brendon says, dazedly, looking down at his stomach. There's still come on his chin.

"Uh," Spencer says. He wants to sprawl back against the sheets but if he does that then he can't stare at Brendon's chest, and it is vitally important that he continue to stare at the stripes of his come on Brendon's skin, maybe forever. He doesn't see the need to stop anytime soon, anyway. "Yeah." He wonders if Brendon minds, if he'll let Spencer do it again.

Oh god, Spencer might get to do this again.

"You, uh. Have you got a Kleenex?"

Spencer lets out a breath. He reaches for whatever is on his nightstand, and knocks over a stack of homework, his alarm clock and a half empty Snickers bar and still comes away with nothing. He finds the t-shirt he sleeps in, instead, and drops it in Brendon's lap.

Brendon makes a face. "It's not a Kleenex," he says.

"I know," Spencer says. "Clean yourself up." He doesn't mean it to come out like an order, but it sort of does.

And then Brendon does, just like Spencer asked him to, and everything goes to shit in Spencer's head.

Spencer doesn't know how to properly understand what's going on. He _likes_ telling people what to do. He is the flyhalf, for fuck's sake, and telling people that he's important and they need to move out of his way is what he _does_. It doesn't make him hard. It doesn't make him want to do things like come all over his boyfriend's chest just so he can tell him to clean himself up afterwards. When he tries to speak he can't think of anything to say, so he doesn't. He just watches Brendon wipe his stomach and his chest, and then further up to where Spencer's come hit Brendon's throat.

Brendon sits back on his heels, still holding on to Spencer's shirt. Spencer wonders dazedly if he can keep a hold of that shirt and maybe jerk off into it later. He thinks he might like that, kind of a lot. He drags his gaze from the shirt in Brendon's hand, up to his face. There's still come on his chin.

Oh _god_.

"There's, uh," he points at Brendon's face. "You missed a bit," he says, finally, and then because he doesn't know what else to do, he slides off the edge of the bed and down on to the floor so he's kneeling over Brendon, and then he reaches down for the shirt in Brendon's hand. "You have come on your face," he says, because that's a sentence he's never said before and frankly, he would like to say again every day for the rest of forever. He dabs uselessly at Brendon's chin with his shirt, and then he gives up, drops the shirt in his lap and cups Brendon's face in his hands instead. Brendon watches him steadily, but his pulse is fluttering beneath Spencer's fingertips and his skin is flushed and hot.

Spencer keeps thinking back to Brendon doing what Spencer asked of him, and fuck, his head is in a messed up place. He just doesn't understand how telling Brendon what to do fits in with wanting to have sex with him. Which he _does_ , fuck, he does. But he also wants to tell him to do more stuff, just because of the way it felt when Brendon _did it_ , but both of those things make him hard and he doesn't understand _why_.

He kisses Brendon again instead, pressing his lips to Brendon's and trying not to think about his parents downstairs and outside, about all the rules he's broken having Brendon in his room with the door shut. About how he doesn't care and he'd do it all again right now if he had to.

There's an idea running through Spencer's head which he _knows_ is a bad one, but he's kind of caught up in the moment, here, and worrying about his parents downstairs isn't enough to make him change his mind about voicing what it is he's thinking. Especially when he sits back on his heels and runs a hand dazedly down Brendon's chest, and Brendon shivers beneath his touch, hot and anticipatory. Spencer can't help it, he drops his gaze to check, and yes, Brendon's hard. Brendon's no closer to being willing to stop what it is that they've started than Spencer is, and Spencer curves his hand into the nape of Brendon's neck and leans in for a kiss.

He slides his hand up to cup Brendon's jaw, and before when they've made out it's been kind of fun and fast and while that's been hot and exciting and Spencer's loved it, it's different now. It's not like Spencer's being— _careful_ of Brendon, or anything, but Brendon feels still beneath his fingertips, and Spencer's more aware than he's ever been that there's more to what they're doing than either of them can put a name to. He'd think about it but his head feels messy and stuffed up with too many thoughts running round and round, and there's something else he'd rather think about instead.

"Can I—I want to see you," he says, still cupping Brendon's jaw in his palm. He feels closer to Brendon than he has before, and not just because of their proximity, but because there are secrets between them now, secrets shared if not named, and Spencer _knows_ this. He knows even if he doesn't want to think about it too much, and Brendon does too. The fact that neither of them are hiding or running away says everything that Spencer thinks needs to be said right now, and even though he's never done this before, he sneaks a hand down between them and fingers the button on Brendon's jeans.

Brendon's eyes widen.

"I want to see you," Spencer says again, urgency threading through his voice. He needs this. He _wants_ this. He wants to see Brendon's dick the way Brendon saw his. Spencer knows exactly how he's going to be spending every night for the rest of forever, and it's going to be jerking off thinking about this, and it's hardly fair that Brendon gets to go home and jerk off over Spencer and actually have a dick to think about. Spencer deserves the same mental image. He blinks. "You are going to go home and jerk off thinking about me, aren't you?" he asks, because sometimes questions float about in Spencer's head and they come out of his mouth without Spencer's actual permission.

Brendon says nothing, but he says it very loudly.

Spencer shrugs, awkwardly. "I'm just checking," he says. "It's not fair that you get to think about my dick but I don't get to think about yours."

"You get to think about mine," Brendon tells him, kindly. And then he adds, "And like I haven't been jerking off thinking about you for months anyway."

Spencer very carefully does not say anything stupid like, "Oh my _god_." He does, however, say, "You jerk off thinking about me?" in what turns out to be quite a high voice, and grabs Brendon's arm.

Brendon nods. "Most nights," he confides. Spencer, unable to help himself, tightens his grip on Brendon's wrist, and something shifts in Brendon's eyes and Spencer's right back where he was two minutes ago, breathless and watching Brendon dazedly, wanting more.

"Show me," Spencer says, without thinking.

Spencer expects Brendon to say _what_ or _no_ or to tell Spencer to fuck off, but he doesn't. He just, he _doesn't._ He reaches a hand down between them, and undoes the top button of his jeans, just like that. Spencer can barely breathe because Brendon's doing it again, he's doing what Spencer asks of him without questioning, and Spencer's left realizing that he's never, ever been this turned on, not once, in all the times he's jerked off, and he knows that it's not just because he's with a real person and not in his bed by himself with the lights turned off.

"Slower," Spencer says, because he has to say something to see if it's a fluke and Brendon isn't really doing whatever Spencer asks of him.

Brendon makes a face, but he obediently slows down, undoing another button with fumbling fingers.

Oh shit, Spencer thinks, and covers Brendon's mouth with his own, his head a total fucking mess. Brendon kisses him back, breathless and probably just as confused as Spencer is, but it doesn't matter because in the kiss there's everything familiar about the two of them, all the times they've done this over the past few weeks, they're all here in the kiss. Spencer wants to say _thank you_ , because at the end there he was feeling weird and unsettled and confused, and he doesn't get any of this. But he wants to, because somewhere underneath the strangeness it is incredible, and kind of ridiculously awesome.

"Sorry," he says, in between kisses, even though he's uncertain what he's apologizing for. Give him a list and he would probably be able to check a few boxes, but mostly he's in the dark about where the two of them stand right now.

Brendon shakes his head, not breaking the kiss. "Don't be," he says, against Spencer's mouth, and Spencer wraps his arms around Brendon's shoulders and tries not to think about how he doesn't have a clue where they're going with this, or what it means.

Brendon tucks his face into the curve of Spencer's neck and rubs his nose against Spencer's skin.

Spencer shivers, in a good way, and doesn't pull away. He drops a kiss to the top of Brendon's head instead, kind of like the ones his mom gives him, and wow, way to think about his mom at the worst possible time.

"You can jerk me off if you want to," Brendon tells him, without looking up, and Spencer freezes, totally unprepared for the actual possibility of _touching_ his boyfriend's dick.

"Uh," Spencer says, stupidly, because apparently _yes_ isn't an easy enough word. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Brendon echoes, his breath a soft hitch against Spencer's mouth, and then he's covering Spencer's hand with his own and then Spencer's hand is on Brendon's dick. His hand is on Brendon's dick, and it doesn't matter that it's over the top of his underwear and a half-open fly, because this shit just got real, and Spencer can't remember what it felt like not to want this with every single fiber of his being.

"Take your pants down," Spencer says, into Brendon's ear, and Brendon nods, even though the angle is weird. Spencer has to kind of kneel up just so that Brendon can kneel up too, and it's hard being graceful when Spencer's pants are half way down his thighs and he's got his dick out, and Brendon's trying to do the same thing.

Spencer's dick twitches, and okay, it's not like he's ready for another round just yet, but neither can he hide the fact that this whole thing is like a wet dream, although admittedly not like any wet dream Spencer's actually had. Spencer thinks his imagination should be on notice, for not pointing out any of these _really awesome_ and hot things any earlier than now.

Brendon tugs open the rest of his button fly, and his underwear is black with little superhero owls on the waistband, and Spencer would go in closer for another look if it wasn't for the way Brendon had just actually got his dick out. Spencer has a momentary heart attack from his brain melting down and out through his ears, because, well. Brendon's _dick_.

Brendon bites his lip, and his dick bobs hopefully in Spencer's general direction. That is almost an invitation, Spencer tells himself, and he takes a deep breath and tells himself that he can face down very tough rugby players, so wrapping his fingers around Brendon's erection should be a walk in the fucking park.

It isn't much like any park Spencer's ever visited, though. Brendon's skin is oh-so-soft to the touch, the head of his cock flushed red and hot. Spencer runs the pad of his thumb over the slit and Brendon lets out a whine and hides his face in Spencer's neck. It's kind of like touching his own dick, except for how this dick clearly belongs to Brendon and not to Spencer at all, and he isn't jerking himself off, he's jerking Brendon off and hoping his mom and dad don't pick this exact moment to barge right on in. They should definitely be doing this up against the door.

"Let me do this up against the door," he says, all of a sudden, because his parents walking in is an _actual_ concern, and not one he could actually ever live through. He'd _die_.

Brendon looks puzzled, but not enough that he stops Spencer from helping him up. It turns out that precisely nobody can look good trying to cross a room with their pants half way down their legs, and Spencer fervently wishes that they didn't actually have to be prepared at every moment to look as if they weren't engaging in things that were most definitely not on his mom's Allowed Behaviors List.

They waddle, like penguins, and then Spencer gives up and crowds Brendon back against the door as best he can without tripping over his jeans. He stumbles, even so, and his cock bumps against Brendon's, and oh god, _that's_ what that feels like.

Brendon gasps a breath, and Spencer tries to remember what breathing actually feels like, because _fuck_ , that's the best thing ever. Sex is the best thing ever, no wonder everybody thinks about it all the time. Spencer's never going to think about anything else, ever again. He's pretty sure his rugby is going to suffer but he was never that bothered about being flyhalf anyway. He can do without all the spirit boxes so long as he's having sex. Nobody needs snickerdoodles anyway, he can totally do without. "Sex is way better than snickerdoodles," he says.

"You're way better than snickerdoodles, shut up," Brendon says, and tugs Spencer closer for a kiss.

Spencer fumbles between them, because he didn't let go of Brendon's cock because he wanted to. He did it for reasons of practicality and being discovered by his parents, because Spencer thinks if there's one thing that could put him off having sex, it might be his mom and dad walking in. It wasn't like they didn't know that Spencer preferred dick, but visual proof might not be the best thing for any of them.

Brendon squeaks as Spencer wraps his fingers around his dick, and objectively, Spencer's pretty sure that his dick is bigger, but Spencer does not care at all about size (he does, but only a little), and anyway, Brendon's feels nicer.

It's also nice how he gets to press Brendon back against the wall, and how much Brendon seems to like it. Spencer still can't stop thinking about what happened in the living room, about how Brendon actually _came_ with no one touching his dick, and all of the other things that have happened since to turn Spencer's brain into such a weird, fucked-up place. He still wants to watch Brendon jerk off, but he wants to do other things too, like come all over his chest again, and see if he can make Brendon go all still and shivery and hot like he had done earlier. He rubs his cheek against Brendon's, breathing soft, hitched breaths against Brendon's ear. "You like that?" he asks, because that's the kind of thing people ask in porno movies. That, and _Do you need your copier fixed?_ which Spencer kind of thinks isn't actually all that appropriate right now.

"Yeah," Brendon gasps, which isn't sarcastic at all, and Spencer had sort of been prepared for sarcasm, or a joke, and hearing the pure, naked want in Brendon's voice is enough to shift the mood from something simple to something much more complicated again. Spencer wants to run his hands across Brendon's skin, and feel it pebble and goose-pimple beneath his fingertips, and he doesn't care how gay that is, because this is as gay as it gets and he wants it all.

"Want to touch you," Spencer tells him, and he doesn't wait for Brendon to say yes, even though Brendon's nodding even before Spencer's finished speaking. He runs his fingers up and down Brendon's chest, across to his shoulder, down under his arm where there's the smattering of hair beneath Spencer's fingertips, and down over his ribs to his hips. Any further down and it's Brendon's ass he'll be touching and he's strangely hesitant, still figuring out where the boundaries lie, and what set of rules they're even playing by any more.

He's still jerking Brendon off, but his rhythm isn't all that fast and he's concentrating too much on Brendon's gasps as he brushes his knuckles across Brendon's ribs. There are still traces of come across his skin, and Spencer fights the urge to lean down and lick at the skin there with his tongue, just to see what it tastes like. He did that, that's _him_ , and so far in his life Spencer's only real interaction with come has been with his own, and the accidental places he's gotten it and had to try and hide before his parents discovered it. He's done his fair share of laundry. This, however, is something entirely different, and while he can't quite work up the courage to press his mouth to Brendon's chest, he can mouth at Brendon's jaw. He can recognize where Brendon's skin tastes different and he thinks, _that was me_ , and he tightens his grip on Brendon's dick.

"Oh, fuck," Brendon says, and his voice squeaks. "Spencer, oh, oh, Spence, I'm going to—fuck, can I?"

Spencer knows that Brendon isn't asking Spencer's permission to come, because that would be weird, but it sounds like he is, and oh god, maybe he _is_. Spencer files it in his brain under 'shit he doesn't understand but thinks is hot anyway', and breathes _yes_.

Brendon tips his head back so hard it makes a _thunk_ against the bedroom door, and Spencer can't even bring himself to care because Brendon is coming, all over Spencer's fist and Spencer's _dick_ , which feels like just about the best thing ever.

Spencer buries his face in Brendon's neck and keeps a hold of Brendon's dick, even as it softens in his hand. He's never touched anyone's dick before while they've been soft and Spencer likes it a lot. He likes all of it, right down to the rapidly drying come on his hand and on his dick.

He likes all of it apart from the part where his dad is calling from the bottom of the stairs to tell them that dinner's ready, and Brendon's still pink-cheeked and flushed.

"Oh my _god_ ," Spencer says, hurriedly trying to pull up his underwear and his pants and not trap a ball. He likes his balls, and getting anything trapped is so not a good idea. There is also Brendon's come on his dick, but if anything says major boner killer, it's his dad coming upstairs to find out what's taking them so long. "Just coming," he yells, and he laughs, kind of hysterically, because otherwise he might fall over.

"I came in my _pants_ ," Brendon hisses, in desperation.

"You can wear one of my shirts," Spencer says. "It'll cover the stain."

"Oh shit, oh shit," Brendon repeats, over and over. He tugs his pants up and buttons them up again. There's still a stain. "There is no way this is going to be a good idea. They're going to _know_."

Spencer is secretly of the opinion that they already do, but he's hoping that the planets are aligned an in his favor, or whatever, since he doesn't exactly want to sit through a lecture on appropriate gay sex in the household with his boyfriend's come on his dick. Nobody wants that.

"Boys!" His mom yells.

"Fuck," Spencer says, as quietly as he can manage. The only t-shirt he can find is one he wears in bed; it has a giant bear on the front. It's a mascot for some rugby team somewhere, but it doesn't much matter since Brendon can't go downstairs in a shirt with a bear on the front. It's like wearing a flag saying, _I just had gay sex with your son_. That is definitely not on the Acceptable Household Behaviors list. They are so busted. He chucks a hoodie at Brendon's head instead.

"It's summer," Brendon says, miserably, unfolding Spencer's hoodie. "I'm going to die."

"I'll wear one too," Spencer says. "It won't look so obvious if we both wear them."

"Outside," Brendon points out, "in summer. In Las Vegas."

"Whatever doesn't kill us makes us stronger," Spencer says, doubtfully.

"Dying of heatstroke," Brendon repeats. "We're going to die."

"Come on," Spencer says, cheerfully, tugging on his hoodie. It's already so hot that sweat is pooling in the small of his back.

"I sweat a lot," Brendon tells him.

Spencer grabs Brendon's hand, pulling him in closer for a quick kiss. "Come on," he says, biting his lip to keep from grinning too much. "We were doing homework and got cold. Who wouldn't believe that?"

Brendon grins, his skin flushed, and follows him downstairs.

~*~

Apparently, Spencer's parents don't actually believe that Spencer and Brendon haven't been up to stuff in Spencer's bedroom, since the moment Brendon's dad arrives to take Brendon home later that evening, Brendon having spent the whole of dinner sweating profusely in his hoodie and sitting right by the ceiling fan in the den pleading the flu, Spencer's mom's eyes turn a fiery, glinty kind of gold. "You," she yells, even as Brendon's dad's car is still in the street. "You do _not_ send your sisters outside so that you can have sex with your boyfriend, oh my god. What did you think you were doing?"

"Uh, not having sex?" Spencer manages, since he's fairly sure that what he and Brendon did only counted as sex if there was no actual _real_ sex going on. They'd still had most of their clothes on. It didn't count.

"Hoodies, Spencer James Smith. Do I look like I was born yesterday?" She puts her hands on her hips. "I was young once, you know."

"Don't lie," Spencer says, automatically, since his mom was never young. She's never had sex, either, Spencer's pretty sure. He and his sisters were the result of immaculate conception. Or maybe created in some scientific lab somewhere, like Lex Luthor's kid in Superman. He's determined to believe that until the day he dies.

"Spencer," she says. "I am very disappointed in you. And in Brendon, too. You know what the house rules are."

"You didn't yell at Brendon," Spencer says, mutinously. He folds his arms.

"Yes, because he's not my son. You are, and you are grounded. Hand over your cell phone."

"No way," Spencer says, shaking his head and keeping a very tight hold of his phone. He'd been texting Ryan to tell him he'd had sex, and Brendon to tell him, well. Anything. They texted a lot. "I need that."

"Spencer, your cell phone."

"Ryan will drive you both crazy," Spencer points out. The last time his parents had confiscated his phone, Ryan had sent eleven texts in the middle of the night and called Spencer at five in the morning to get him to get up early and come out and meet Ryan. When that hadn't worked, Ryan had taken to leaning on the doorbell in place of sending a text. His parents had given him his phone back pretty quickly after that. "And I need to call Brendon."

"You can see him in school," his mom says. "Hand over your phone, and then you can go upstairs and bring me down your keyboard and your mouse, too. Internet privileges are revoked until after the weekend."

"No internet?" Spencer complains. "What is this, the dark ages?"

His mom's eyes narrow. "What are the house rules, Spencer Smith?"

Spencer rolls his eyes, grumpily. "No boyfriends upstairs with the doors closed."

"Right," she says. "And what did you do?"

 _Had totally awesome and vaguely fucked up sex with the door closed_ , Spencer thinks. "Studied," Spencer says. "And the door may have shut by itself."

"Did it, now," Spencer's mom says.

"I have to call Brendon to tell him that I'm grounded. Over _nothing_ ," he complains. "Then I'll give you my phone."

"This is not a democracy," she points out.

"A text, then," Spencer says, still holding on to his phone. "One text to Brendon and one text to Ryan. "

Spencer's mom clearly remembers the last time she'd confiscated Spencer's phone. "Okay," she relents. "Two texts, but after that, you don't get your phone back until after the weekend. Or your computer privileges. Maybe you'll remember the rules next time."

"Didn't break them anyway," Spencer lies. He taps out, _grounded, ugh. Phone confiscated_ , _life is over_ , to Ryan, and to Brendon he types, _best day ever omg ur better than snickerdoodles. Totally grounded now cu in school_ 3333333.

He hands over his phone and then he trudges upstairs to unplug his keyboard and mouse. Looks like it's just him and the inside of his own head for company over the next few days. Spencer doesn't know how people managed in the olden days, without internet and phones and his iPod.

His _iPod_.

His mom totally forgot to confiscate that, awesome. He's pretty sure his mom doesn't know that his iPod touch has wifi built in. He sprawls backwards on the bed and starts tapping out an email to Brendon about the perfect spirit box. Maybe being grounded isn't going to be that bad after all.

[end]


End file.
